Zhao Ger spoke up first: "Lord Gu, I'm so sorry for the embarrassment. Why don't you go on ahead? I'll step inside and give the child a lesson."
Lao Gu nodded. Yes, a lesson was definitely in order—otherwise, with Lord Fang raising the boy, heaven knows what he might turn into...
Then voices came from inside the house.
"Daddy, did you hear that just now?"
"I heard it."
"Zhao Ger, I'm going to town later to buy some pork legs for stew tonight—how about that? It's a great occasion! We need to celebrate."
"Sure! Buy three—any less and there might not be enough."
"Are you happy?"
"Happy." Zhao Ger's laughter drifted out.
The old men: "..."
This whole family—really now. Some lesson that was. Not the least bit reserved. If they were in such a situation, they'd never laugh like that in front of outsiders!
At the very least, they'd wait until they were back in their rooms to laugh in private!
Whether it was because they were ravenous or because the village vegetables were fresher, the meal disappeared in no time. The guests had arrived suddenly without prior notice, so there wasn't much prepared at home—just some pork.
Still, since they were guests from the capital, Uncle Tang had gone to the back courtyard and caught a chicken.
This very chicken had been raised by Guaizai himself! It was already several jin heavy now.
With time short, they stewed it straight away, then chopped it up for white-cut chicken and served it with a simple dipping sauce. They stir-fried pork with vegetables, made a napa cabbage dish, a long-bean dish, smashed cucumber salad, and braised tofu with meat. Served with plain rice porridge, and that was all.
Just simple, homestyle cooking—nothing fancy, not greasy. The old men ate comfortably.
Every dish was cleaned out. The old men stared blankly at the empty plates on the table. Earlier they'd thought, with so many large plates piled on the table, Lord Fang's family must be treating them like pigs—why else fix such a mountain of food? And now...
Back in the capital, when could they ever have such an appetite? At their age, they'd usually lose interest after one bowl of rice—meat and soups just seemed greasy, no matter how they were prepared. During these months on the road, they'd been so worn out they had no appetite at all. Yet now, three bowls of porridge had gone down and they still weren't full.
Gungun and Dandan stood on little stools, leaning over the table to stare at them.
The old men looked back at the two. Their faces were as round as serving plates, with necks practically nowhere to be seen. They'd never seen any child in the capital this chubby. It seemed Hezhou was a good place to live.
At their age, their own grandsons were already grown. Seeing Gungun and Dandan now—so tiny, barely taller than the table, with big glossy dark eyes—they felt fond and delighted, and waved them over.
The two little ones scurried up to one of the officials, who patted their cheeks—so soft and squishy. "Which one of you is Gungun, and which one is Dandan?"
He had seen them once at their one-month feast, but babies change every day, and now he couldn't tell them apart.
"Grandpa, I'm Gungun."
"I'm Dandan."
"We're the Rollin' Eggs!"
[Gungun (滚滚, "rolling") and Dandan (蛋蛋, "egg") together form "gun dan," which literally means "roll egg."]
That introduction sent the whole group into fits of laughter.
Afterward, they had another discussion with Fang Zichen, then returned to the county yamen. They'd brought too many people to stay in the village, and the village accommodations were truly too simple and uncomfortable for them.
Earlier they'd been rushing and hadn't entered the town. Now that they passed through the city gates, everyone could tell the difference.
Though the town's buildings and houses weren't as fine as those outside and still looked a bit shabby, the town itself was spotless. Along both sides of the road were small street vendors, and white lines were painted at the edges. Lao Gu noticed that all the vendors set their stalls outside those lines, neatly organized, not taking up the middle of the road at all. Unlike elsewhere, where vendors set up haphazardly and crowded right into the center, making everything jam-packed. When vegetable sellers closed up, they'd just leave the rotten leaves on the ground—filthy and chaotic.
Anping County, by contrast, was orderly and well-kept.
Townfolk strolled about in twos and threes, while street vendors hawked their wares—a lively and pleasant scene.
The people of Hezhou bore a grudge against officials, so when the group reached the yamen, they didn't dare go straight in. They planned to wait until no one was around and slip in quietly. The imperial guards escorting them knew exactly what they were worried about—that the locals might find out they were officials too, get them sacked and beaten, and send them back to the capital missing limbs.
But Hezhou was no longer the old Hezhou.
No unauthorized persons could enter the chemical fertilizer factory. The old men rested a night and headed over the next day. Fang Zichen had given prior instructions, so no one stopped them.
The factory was large, and a foreman guided them through with explanations.
The foreman was from the village, but had signed a contract with Fang Zichen and was considered one of their own. He knew every step of the processing inside out.
Making chemical fertilizer was simple—they understood it after just a few days of observation.
When the old men arrived at Fang Zichen's place and looked at him again, they finally understood why he'd been laughing so hard earlier. Couldn't he have waited until they left before celebrating?
Now they got it.
This stuff could boost crop yields. At first, they'd thought chemical fertilizer was miraculous and probably difficult to make. Since it was hard to produce, a sack likely wouldn't earn much—just a few copper coins. But after touring the factory for a few days, they'd figured out the raw materials and their costs. For just a few dozen copper coins worth of materials, processed into fertilizer, it sold for over two hundred copper coins. That meant a profit of over a hundred copper coins per sack. If promoted widely, how much would a ten percent share bring? At the very lowest estimate, tens of thousands of taels.
No wonder Fang Zichen was so overjoyed. If it were them, they might have fainted from excitement before they could even laugh.
It happened to be time for the second round of fertilizing, and Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger were both busy, so Guaizai had to take on the job, leading the old men out to the fields.
Strangers in the village naturally drew curiosity, and the villagers asked around. When they learned that these were officials from the capital, here to study chemical fertilizer and spread it elsewhere so common folk everywhere could benefit—and that they were good officials just like their own prefect, with the prefect's young son in tow—the villagers treated the old men with respect and warmth. Even though their official presence seemed even more imposing than the prefect's, no one was afraid. The cucumber vines were heavy with fruit, and when the villagers spotted them coming, they hurried to the vegetable patches, picked some, washed them clean, and brought them over.
"Young Master, honored officials, have some cucumbers! Cool and refreshing. We don't have much good stuff in the village—please don't mind!"
"Young Master Guaizai, stop by my field later and pick some corn to boil! You gentlemen should try some too—freshly picked corn is really sweet when boiled."
"The plums up the hill are ripe too," said a woman, handing over a basket. "I just picked these. Young Master, honored sirs, would you like a few?"
The old men were momentarily stunned. Before they could answer, a farmer just shoved cucumbers into their arms.
This, this...
The villagers were both respectful and warm. The old old men had lived for decades and served as officials for just as long—they'd seen all sorts of things and faced all sorts of situations. But this was genuinely a first.
In the past, common people either hid from them or stood at a distance, trembling with fear. They never came up like this—or offered them gifts.
They didn't feel offended. On the contrary, they felt a warmth in their hearts, a bittersweet tenderness.
This was the genuine affection of the people.
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